Vasuket swallowed, tearing his eyes away, but despite his will, they were drawn back to Manmaani’s winsome face. That mysterious gaze beckoned him, pulling him into its velvety depths, the winking gold pin on the pert little nose making him aware of his terrible loneliness. Frowning, he looked away again.
Manmaani’s heart went pit-a-pat. ‘I . . . I am sorry, Your Majesty,’ she faltered, ‘perhaps we shouldn’t have . . .’
‘Oh, no, no, madam,’ he hastened to reassure her. ‘I am very pleased you are here.’
She inclined her head, dimpling shyly. ‘So kind of you, Your Majesty. May I introduce my children?’ They stood stiffly behind her, waiting their turn to greet him. Vasuket relaxed, smiling at the three young men and the gawking girl. When he patted Nandan’s curly head, a rush of affection engulfed him. Once again his eyes strayed to Manmaani, flitting like a bee over her rosebud mouth, and settled there.
Ashwath stood rooted to the spot. The moment he spotted the general, his hands bunched into fists, his gaze raking over the muscle-bound frame. ‘He’s tall . . . but not as tall as me,’ he seethed. ‘And yet he makes me feel . . .’ he trailed off.
Hussuri shot him a quizzical look, ‘Feel what?’
‘Let’s go outside,’ he growled.
‘No, I want to stay. Look, here come the entertainers.’
A roll of drums announced the start of festivities, and dancing troupes and singers made a dramatic entry. Observing the king applaud with enthusiasm, Saahas smiled, ‘Your Majesty, weren’t you about to make an announcement?’
‘Ah, yes,’ Vasuket hesitated, one hand going up to the glittering pagdi on his head. The moment was gone, lost. ‘Perhaps another time.’
‘As you wish, Your Majesty,’ Saahas bowed. Vasuket pursed his lips, a little annoyed with himself. But the next instant, the peacock dancers whirled in and his eyes sought Manmaani. A thrill of excitement ran through him. Watching her enjoy the ballet, he forgot the world, as if the reception had been organized just for the two of them.
11
‘It went very well, bhabhi. I should say extraordinarily well.’ Relief made Chakrawaru generous with his words. ‘I wouldn’t be at all surprised if His Majesty requests for a meeting with you, perhaps in a couple of days. And all thanks to you, Aum shall have its king again. I will call on you again, soon,’ and he bustled away.
‘Old Vasuket does not need cheering up,’ Manmaani remarked. ‘That is pretty obvious.’
‘Yes, mother and there is something else that is quite obvious, too,’ Shunen’s silky voice spoke in her ear. ‘I had the distinct impression that your presence averted a disaster—a disaster for uncle Chakra.’
‘What are you trying to say?’ she paid close attention, an arrested look on her face.
‘When we walked into the throne room, I heard whispers that the king intended to announce the dashing general as his heir. But that didn’t happen.’
‘Because Chakrawaru played spoilsport.’ Beads of moisture broke out on her upper lip.
‘And that is why we are here, mother, to throw a spanner in the good king’s works.’ Observing the emotions flit across her face, he added ever so gently, ‘We are just pawns on uncle’s chessboard. Once his work is done, he will throw us back into the box.’
Manmaani gripped her hands. ‘If you are right, then the stakes for this game are much higher than imagined.’ A cold shiver of anticipation ran up her spine. She couldn’t wait to meet His Majesty again.
Vasuket stared discontentedly at the woodland. It had been over four days since he had made Manmaani’s acquaintance, and try as he might, he couldn’t get her out of his mind, constantly seeking out the memory of that particular moment when he had gazed upon her alluring face. ‘I will go mad,’ he groaned and rushed into the gallery, to stand shamefaced before his queen’s portrait.
‘I’m sorry I haven’t come to see you these last few days. I don’t understand myself. I don’t know what has come over me.’ The queen gazed back, a kind serenity reaching out to him from her sweet eyes.
The king sighed, ‘I miss you so much. I feel so, so alone.’
The light shifted in the gallery and a sunbeam fell across the painting, bringing the queen’s forest green dress to life. ‘She’s a poor widow, my dear,’ he pleaded, ‘with three sons. Perhaps I could help her, just enough so that her worries are taken care of?’ The sunbeam touched the queen’s face, turning up the corners of her mouth into a warm smile. ‘You approve don’t you, my dear? Of course, you do! You are compassion itself. I should have come to you sooner. Thank you, thank you, my darling.’
Manmaani chose her dress with care. A cream lehenga matched a choli knotted at the back, leaving her comely arms and shoulders bare. Her head she covered with an odhni, as delicate as a spider’s web, its border of dark green framing her face. Around her neck and wrists, she tied strings of white chameli flowers interspersed with small, fresh leaves. Once again, she darkened her eyes, skilfully transforming them into an almond shape. And for a final touch, she pinched her cheeks vigorously till they flushed a becoming pink. Walking with slow steps to the royal garden, she was a picture of wistful femininity, of bashful sensuality.
Vasuket rose to greet her, his heart skipping a beat. ‘Madam, thank you for accepting my invitation.’
‘Your Majesty,’ Manmaani quivered, ‘it is my honour and privilege.’
A sudden gust swirled the skirt around her ankles, winding it tightly about her buxom figure. The long odhni billowed, tugging to be free. Manmaani blushed, clutching at it in vain, her ample bosom rising and falling rapidly. His pulse racing, Vasuket leaned in close, inhaling the chameli scent, ‘You remind me of a painting I saw a long time ago,’ he murmured with a catch in his voice, his hands grasping her waist, ‘of a startled wood nymph, reaching for her flying scarf, her hair tossed by the wind.’
Manmaani gasped, lips parting and Vasuket, drawing a sharp breath bent his head, pressing his mouth to hers. The clouds rumbled, warning of a gathering storm, but he paid no heed, his old heart singing to its own romantic beat, uncaring of the approaching danger.
12
Chakrawaru leaned out of the window of his office, watching the general bid goodbye to some courtiers. ‘So, he leaves and I am still nowhere close to laying a trap for him.’
‘You should have gotten hold of his accounts and cooked them.’
Chakrawaru spun away from the window.
Shunen’s hooded eyes considered him. ‘He came to the palace almost every day in the hope of meeting the king, carrying his book of accounts.’
‘What are you doing here? How did you get in here?’ Chakrawaru scuttled, peering out into the passage before shutting the door firmly.
‘You are losing your touch, uncle.’
He glared, his breathing rapid, ‘I don’t understand.’
A faint smile appeared on Shunen’s lips. ‘My mother, happily for you, is keeping His Majesty occupied, but do you know what it has done? Why, the palace has opened all its doors to us and I have followed you, inside and outside the court, for the past two weeks, watching you transact. The siphoning off from ministerial funds, the deals you make with the merchants, oh yes, you have carried on with your business just like the old days.’
‘How dare you threaten me,’ he snarled, flecks of spit flying from his mouth. ‘Living off my scraps, you thieving, lying cheats. You forget I can send you all to prison, that I hold the proof of your father’s crime.’
A muscle jumped in Shunen’s jaw, his eyes flat and cold. ‘Come now, uncle,’ he said, his voice devoid of emotion, ‘we mustn’t fight. Wouldn’t you like to continue controlling the treasury?’
Chakrawaru swallowed, exhaling slowly. ‘Good,’ Shunen nodded his approval. ‘Now we can talk, as equals.’
You are the sun and the moon
You, the stars at noon
Father, mother, rolled in one
Must we leave you, oh, so soon?
Hussuri waited, her ey
es wide with expectation. Bemused, Vasuket asked, ‘Why do you talk of leaving?’
All along, Manmaani seated beside the king, had her gaze fixed on her pretty silk shoes. But now, just for an instant she exchanged a quick glance with Chakrawaru before lowering her eyes again.
‘It is true, Your Majesty,’ Nandan cried out. ‘We leave you tonight, never to see you again.’ Two large tears dashed down his creamy cheeks.
‘My boy, my dearest child,’ the king held out his arms, ‘come here, come to me.’ A soft sob escaped Manmaani’s lips. ‘What is it, my lady?’ Vasuket’s brow puckered with concern.
She shook her head, wiping tears that fell continuously. Baffled, he glanced around the room. Hussuri clung to Ashwath and Shunen appeared paler than usual. ‘What is going on Chakrawaru? Is it true that they leave tonight?’
‘Er, yes, Your Majesty. It is bhabhi’s decision, she insists on returning home.’
‘But why, my lady? What is the rush? Look how unhappy you are making the children and . . . and . . . well, everyone else.’
‘We have overstayed our welcome, Your Majesty,’ Manmaani lifted a tear-stained face. Dropping her voice, she forced the king to lean in, straining to hear her words, ‘Tongues have started to wag in the palace, such dreadful rumours, Your Majesty. How can I, a woman, a mother, let such ugliness besmirch my reputation?’ and she hid her scarlet face in her shaking hands.
Shock, righteous indignation and tenderness, overwhelmed him all at once. Speaking in a low voice, he told her, ‘I, the King of Aum, make you a promise that I will let no evil befall you. Give me one day to consider the matter.’ Coming to his feet, he ordered the advisor, ‘Chakrawaru, my lady will not depart until I say so.’
13
A royal guard, his horse lathered in sweat, pulled up near Tota and saluted smartly. ‘An invitation for the general,’ he said handing over a silken scroll secured with a red and gold thread.
‘An invitation to what?’
The messenger swung his horse around, ‘To the royal wedding, sir, haven’t you heard? Our king is to be married.’
Saahas examined the invitation with knitted brows. ‘Manmaani! That’s the lady I met at the party, just a month ago.’
‘A month ago! It has all happened rather fast.’
Saahas shrugged, ‘Whatever makes my king happy.’
‘Long live King Vasuket, long live Queen Manmaani, long live the Princes and Princess Hussuri!’ The joyful shouts rang out under the large, bedecked canopy, the gathered guests showering the royal family with marigold flowers and rose petals. The ceremony concluded, the guests lined up to congratulate the royal couple. Chakrawaru stood close at hand, whispering introductions into the queen’s ear, and when he saw the general approaching, a smile of pure malice flickered across his face.
Saahas knelt before the royal family, his gaze fixed on Vasuket, ‘With this sword, O King, I once vowed to protect and serve the throne.’ He held Shakti aloft, the steel blade dazzling in the sun, as if on fire. ‘Today, on this blessed day, I once again declare my allegiance to the throne. Glory be to King Vasuket, glory be to the queen and the royal family.’
The guests applauded, chanting, ‘Glory be to Aum. Hail King Vasuket and Queen Manmaani!’
Vasuket rose to his feet, his face wreathed in smiles, ‘And glory be to General Saahas!’
The crowd went wild, showering the General with flowers.
Ashwath sat as if bewitched, deaf to the uproar, to Hussuri calling his name. He had eyes only for one thing, Saahas’s sword, its alternating pattern of light and dark casting a spell on him.
The king rose up on one elbow, bestowing a loving glance at his sleeping bride, his finger lightly tracing the rim of her ear. The rejoicing and festivities had carried on late into the night, the newlyweds tumbling into bed exhausted. Yet, he had trembled for her, and the queen had offered herself shyly, like a fresh bud quickly blossoming at his touch, delighting him. Vasuket sighed. It had been a night of wanton pleasures, the kind he had not known before.
A ray of sunshine peeped through a chink in the heavy drapes screening the bed. Tiptoeing to the window, Vasuket looked out at the woodland. The copper pods had bloomed in the summer heat, their small, yellow flowers bursting on every branch. A feeling of immense wellbeing washed over him. There wasn’t a cloud in the clear sky to cast a shadow on his happiness.
Suddenly, he started. ‘I am becoming forgetful,’ he murmured, hurrying to face the sun. ‘Aum, Aum,’ he intoned the sacred salutation, his head bent in prayer.
Manmaani opened one sleepy eye and groaned, ‘Oh, do come back to bed, darling. It is an ungodly hour to be up and about,’ and Vasuket, laughing happily, complied.
Destiny heaves a sigh. ‘And this is where I fell asleep, certain that since the ball had been set in motion, it required no watching over.’
14
The king and Kurikas watched Ashwath fence with the master, his grunts audible to them even from a discreet distance.
‘Do you see the way he charges at his opponent, Your Majesty? And the way he uses the blade?’
Vasuket nodded, ‘Yes, the hacking motion and the two-handed grip on the sword, as if it’s a club.’
‘Exactly,’ concurred Kurikas. ‘This is not his ideal weapon.’
‘Ah well, the poor boy has set his heart on it ever since he laid eyes on Saahas’s khanda. I had to promise him that you would forge one for him, otherwise he was determined to have Saahas’s blade.’
Closely following Ashwath’s moves, Kurikas exclaimed, ‘Your Majesty, let him try a mace. That is his weapon. I am certain of it.’
‘I am sure you are right, you always are. If it weren’t for your conviction, I would have believed Saahas all those years ago that he couldn’t ever handle a sword! Do you remember?’
Kurikas threw back his head laughing, and tapped his good eye, the other one disfigured and sightless, as if burnt by hot metal. ‘Our general was a young scamp then but his talent couldn’t remain hidden from me!’ Then he added, ‘Your Majesty, if you wish, I will talk the prince out of his obsession.’
Vasuket mounted his horse, ‘You can try, but I will still place an order for the steel ingots of Dakhini. One way or the other you will forge another khanda.’
‘Gladly, Your Majesty,’ the swordsmith saluted. ‘I’m ever delighted to work on that extraordinary metal.’ After a few moments of observing Ashwath vainly rush at his opponent, he shook his head, ‘I am willing to bet my life the khanda and you can never be friends.’
She dipped the little piece of bread in the milky white liquid before tossing it into the cage. ‘Come, my darling,’ she murmured, her curious gaze fixed on the mouse, ‘eat.’ But the small creature looked back at her, unmoving, a dull film dimming its eyes. Manmaani frowned, peering closely.
‘Move,’ she commanded tapping the cage, and the hapless mouse raised its head, dragging itself to the morsel. ‘Wonderful,’ she muttered. ‘The venom doesn’t kill, only weakens. So, you won’t interfere in my affairs.’ The mouse stopped nibbling, looking at her in a resigned sort of way. ‘And you will do as I say, put my sons in powerful positions—’ A knock on the door interrupted her. ‘What is it?’ she screeched.
‘Your Majesty, the Gondi chief is here.’
‘Ah, yes.’ Throwing a cloth over the cage, she hurried into her private salon.
‘Hail to you, Your Majesty, hail to you,’ Bukkal knelt at her feet.
‘Yes, yes, that will do. What perfumes have you got me today?’ She dismissed her attendants with a wave of her hand and as soon as they were gone, she leaned forward, her small eyes glinting.
‘The viper venom is remarkable,’ she breathed. ‘No smell, nothing. Get me some more.’ Bukkal shifted uneasily on his feet. ‘Now what?’ she snapped.
‘Queen of Aum, how I, a mere tribal can disregard your command? But . . .’
Manmaani arched an eyebrow. ‘There will be more gold, Gondi. Don’t worry.’
Buk
kal wrung his hands. ‘Against my tribe, against my forest I will go. So many more vipers will I have to kill.’
‘Then do it. The tribe, the forest, the snakes, they all belong to me. Here, take this as an advance,’ and she flung him a purse.
‘All rise,’ the court herald announced impressively. ‘His Majesty, the Monarch of Aum, Her Majesty the Queen of Aum, the royal Princes and Princess Hussuri have arrived.’
Manmaani looked magnificent, like a glittering peacock. While her dress of muted gold was simplicity itself, it highlighted the multi-hued jewels on her person. Ashwath followed her, fiddling with the scarf on his shoulder, Hussuri grinning by his side.
‘The prince seems awkward in those clothes,’ a courtier murmured.
‘Yes,’ agreed the other, ‘like a clumsy actor trying to play his part.’
Shunen came in next and all eyes widened. He had shaved his head, the bald dome accentuating the harsh lines of his face, and his all-black ensemble filled many a heart with dread. With a sigh of relief, the court turned its gaze on Nandan’s slim form.
The outfit of charcoal-grey, combined with deep red rubies around his creamy throat, heightened Nandan’s rosy complexion, and his almond eyes outshone the gold band encircling his dark curls. A prince indeed, the court sighed, in the same mould as the late Agraj and Anuj.
Surveying the packed court, Vasuket’s eyes met a pair of steady, brown ones. The general’s face softened from a rush of warm affection. ‘He alone is distinguished,’ Saahas murmured to Tota.
‘But he looks a little peaky, sire,’ the aide-de-camp whispered back.
The king acknowledged Saahas with an intimate smile and rose to his feet. It was time to satisfy the court’s curiosity.
The Crown of Seven Stars Page 6